


Visitation

by tessykins



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (2006)
Genre: Ghosts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-07
Updated: 2006-11-07
Packaged: 2017-10-19 13:29:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/201366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tessykins/pseuds/tessykins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack visits one last time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visitation

James Norrington does not believe in ghosts. Undead pirates aside, he has never believed in the supernatural—he is, after all, a rational man. But the fact remains that Jack Sparrow is sitting on his bed at midnight on All Hallows’ Eve. The cunning devil had obviously escaped unscathed from his encounter with Davy Jones. Except…James can sort of…see through him.

But there’s nothing supernatural about that. James is obviously dreaming, or hallucinating, or drunk again (though he doesn’t remember drinking, that’s not a sure sign of anything these days).

James blinks several times and decides to ignore the aberrant apparition. Instead, he walks to the liquor cabinet and pulls out a bottle of rum. Obviously, the Fates don’t want him to quit drinking, at least not today. He pulls the cork out with his teeth—bad habit, he reminds himself—and takes a long draught.

“’Ey, Commodore,” his hallucination addresses him, “Ye mind sharin’ a bit wit a thirsty ol’ tar?” James glances at his delusion and takes another drink. “C’mon, don’t be greedy. There’s enough t’ share around.” The apparition is pouting. God, James thinks, of all the hallucinations, why did it have to be Jack bloody Sparrow? He could be imagining Elizabeth, or Tortuga's whores, but no… His visions are smug and obnoxious and want his rum.

Jack is kicking his feet against of the side of the bed now, like an impatient child (James doesn’t really like children either). “Please,” Jack wheedles, “I’ll let ye clap me in irons.” He winks salaciously. His face suddenly turns thoughtful. He frowns and give a helpless little shrug. “Eh. Ne’ermind, Commodore. Got no need of rum now.”

James laughs. “Good Lord. We must mark the day that the infamously rum-soaked Captain Jack Sparrow no longer wanted rum.”

Jack glares at him and there’s something in his face that makes James’ good humor evaporate. Hopelessness, perhaps? Or maybe just resignation. The apparition is up and pacing now (his feet don’t actually touch the floor, James notes). “Can’t drink rum no more. Got no hands t’ pour it, no mouth t’ drink it, no stomach for it t’ warm. No more rum for Cap’n Jack, not where he’s goin’.”

“Why? Are you heading somewhere with a shortage of rum?” James steadfastly refuses to believe that this is anything but a delusion. Despite the fact that Sparrow is floating an inch above the floor and he’s _transparent_. But his gut tells a different story. He’s beginning to suspect that this whole scenario is some sort of ghostly visitation.

Jack stares at him as if he’s grown second and third heads. “Cor, are you blind-drunk, Commodore? I’m dead, mate. You can see right through me! I’m a ghostie, a specter, a phantom, a blody spirit!”

James looks into his rum, looking for answers at the bottom of the bottle (though he hasn’t found any yet). “I’ve become increasingly aware of that, Sparrow, but thank you for elucidating me.” Jack snorts at the edge of sarcasm in his voice.

They’re suspended in a deeply uncomfortable silence for several minutes. James finally shatters the silence with a quiet admission, “I-I wasn’t aware that you had died.” There’s an implicit question behind his simple statement, _did I cause this?_

Jack doesn’t bother to soften his frank answer to the unspoken question. “Yeah. An’ if ye hadn’t buggered off with th’ thump-thump, th’ kraken wouldn’t of et me lovely self.”

James sits down on the bed, cradling the bottle of rum in his hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—that’s no way for anyone to die.” James looks up into Jack’s eyes. He can see out the open window through them; the moon is more than half-full, the swollen belly of a glutted beast.

Jack shifts uncomfortably, avoiding James’ gaze. “Yeah, well. Went down with me bonny lass, so it weren’t totally awful. I still got me Pearl.” Jack sits back down on the bed next to James. Had he been solid, their shoulders would have touched. “But I forgive ye,” Jack whispers conspiratorially. “Just don’t go blabbin’ that t’ everyone, savvy? They’ll I gone soft in me old age.”

James looks up, startled. “What? Why?” His actions brought about Sparrow’s grisly death, and not the quick, righteous death that he had intended. Sparrow was supposed to face justice, not be devoured by a monster.

Jack shakes his head with a mischievous grin. “Ye look it, but ye aren’t so smart, are ye, Commodore?” He leans in, till their foreheads are almost touching. James is too drunk, too disoriented by everything Jack has done tonight, to pull away from the close contact (he refuses to entertain the thought that he doesn’t _want_ to pull away). “Always wanted to do this,” Jack murmurs. He tilts his head and kisses James.

The kiss is gentle and light. James can barely feel the press of Jack’s lips against his; it feels insubstantial, like a chill English breeze. But after a moment it burns, oh it burns with a cold fire. James remembers the winter he almost got frostbite as a child. Jack’s kiss burns like frostbite, makes James afraid for what it might be doing to him.

As quickly as it had begun, the kiss ended—but it seemed to James to last his whole lifetime, an eternity passed in a few heartbeats’ time.

Jack pulls away and stands up from the bed. He grins and licks his lips. “Mmm. Tastes like rum.” Jack laughs at James’ thunderstruck expression. He settles his hat on his head, as though preparing to leave, and strikes a heroic pose (or what he obviously _thinks_ is a heroic pose). It’s such very Jack Sparrow thing to do that James can’t help it when the corner of his mouth quirks up. Jack winks and blows James a kiss.

Then he's gone.

But James can still feel the cold burn of Jack’s lips on his own.

  
~Fin


End file.
